The Third Edition of Drabbles for the 100-Drabble Challenge
by NirCele
Summary: This collection contains: #11 – Breaking the Habit; #14 – What Happens Now?; #25 – Documentation; #43 – Tears; #48 – Language Lesson; #66 – Point of View; #87 – On My Own; and #97 – Fellow Sufferer.


**#11 – Breaking the Habit  
**

"You know, chewing on the end of your quill probably isn't healthy," Glorfindel observed to his friend. Erestor stopped nibbling the feather and glowered at Glorfindel, and the Balrog-slayer hastily added, "Of course, who am I to tell you what is healthy and what is not?"

"I'm trying to stop doing it," Erestor grumped, pulling the now-wet quill out of his mouth and turning his scowl to it instead.

"I'll help!" Glorfindel volunteered happily, and Erestor raised an eyebrow at him – the move apparently mimicked from Lord Elrond. "And what can you do to help?"

Glorfindel considered that for a long moment. "Well…hmm. Maybe – you could stop using quills!" he suggested.

Erestor blinked, then looked up at the ceiling as if silently pleading the Valar for patience. Finally, he sighed. "Glorfindel, how am I supposed to write anything if I don't have a quill?"

Glorfindel shrugged. "I dunno. I'm the one that came up with the solution, you implement it." With that, he pranced away, golden waves dancing over his shoulders, and whistling a merry tune.

Erestor resisted the urge to throw something heavy after the retreating back. Then he scowled once more as he realized the end of the feathered quill was back in his mouth.

Lord Elrond wondered the next morning why all of the quills in Erestor's study were completely stripped of the filaments that made up the feathers.  
(And that is how pens were invented.)

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**#14 – What Happens Now?**

Elladan and Elrohir were in the midst of a battlefield, surrounded by the fallen and bloodied corpses of orcs. Their faces were wearied, with no joy from their victory.

Revenge could change a perspective.

"They're all dead, Elladan. All of them." Elrohir's voice was tired, his swords hanging limply from his hands. "What happens now?"

Elladan surveyed the broken, trampled ground. "We burn the bodies, then…"

"Home?" Elrohir asked, a tinge of hope in his voice at the thought of going back to the Last Homely House – but there would be nothing for them there but more sorrow and pain.

"No," Elladan said. He closed his eyes in fatigue, and then opened them again. "There was rumor of a pack in the crossing near the north of Trollshaw. We head there next."

And so the death spree would continue.

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**#25 – Documentation**

"Glorfindel, for the last time," said Erestor exasperatedly, "you need to turn in the report for your last month-long patrol. Soon!"

The famed Balrog-slayer looked over at his friend and smiled. "Can't I do it later?"

"No!" exclaimed Erestor. "You said that yesterday, the day before that, _and_ the day before that! Stop putting it off, and just write it!"

"Oh, I suppose you're right," Glorfindel agreed, seeing the frenzy Erestor was working up to. "I'll get on it as soon as possible."

Erestor stood and waited. After a long moment, Glorfindel glanced back at him. "Yes?"

"Right now, Glorfindel."

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**#43 – Tears**

"_Ada_! _Nana_!"

Elrond and Celebrían exchanged worried looks when their young sons burst into the room, one shrieking in worry, the other howling in pain.

"What happened?" Celebrían exclaimed, catching a lapful of sobbing Elladan. Elrohir was almost in tears himself, seeing his twin hurt, and leapt into his father's arms, burying his head in Elrond's chest.

"I fell," Elladan whimpered, feeling better in the comforting embrace of his mother. "My knee hurts."

Celebrían glanced down at his ripped leggings and confirmed that the knee was skinned, though thankfully not bleeding. Elrohir caught his mother's silver gaze and asked anxiously, "Is he going to die?"

"Of course not!" Elrond laughed, remembering times when he and his own twin had run around causing havoc and wounding themselves every other day.

Celebrían gave Elrond a grumpy glare. "He'll be fine, _ion nîn_. Your father will give you a bandage though, to make it feel better, _won't he_?"

"Ah, yes, of course," Elrond hastily agreed, and set Elrohir down to fetch his small kit that he kept near the bed just for this purpose.

Elladan looked up at his mother, a fat tear resting on his cheek, and he gave her a pitiful look. "_Nana_, will you kiss it an' make it better?"

Celebrían laughed softly and complied. "Good now?"

"Yes!" Elladan exclaimed, leaping off her lap and sprinting out of the room with his relieved twin close behind. Elrond put the healing kit back and sat back down beside his wife. "A kiss will make it better, won't it?"

"Yes," Celebrían agreed, looking fondly after the two departing elflings.

Elrond suddenly affected a pained expression. "Oh, Cel! My mouth hurts for some odd reason!" He gave his wife a naughty look. "Will you kiss it and make it better?"

Celebrían laughed and complied.

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**#48 – Language Lesson**

When Glorfindel, graceful elf though he was, stubbed his toe on a block hammered into the ground just outside the stables, he let out a most uncouth curse that he had learned on one of his trips to Lothlórien, where some of the Galadhrim knew a few quite colorful oaths in Khuzdul. After the surprised outburst, Glorfindel hopped on one foot for a few long moments before his mind decided not to bombard his nerves with pain anymore and calmed down.

He sighed and placed his foot back on the ground, ready to continue with the day and making a mental note to have one of his minions move that block. He started toward the House, when he suddenly…saw…two…pair…of…grey…eyes…staring…up at him.

Oh horror. Glorfindel's own blue eyes went wide as saucers. "Boys, did you hear what I said?"

"What?" inquired Elrohir – at least, he thought he was Elrohir, with the blue beads in his hair – innocently. "Did you say something?"

"If you did, don't repeat it," Glorfindel instructed, then moved hurriedly away, remembering suddenly that he had a…an important meeting. Yes. With the Healing Rooms.

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other behind his back.

"That's a new one," Elrohir remarked.

"True," Elladan agreed, his chubby face serious. "I wonder what it means. Do you think it's Dwarvish?"

"Khuzdul, probably," said Elrohir with a shrug. "Which is the same thing. Don't know what it means, though. Let's go ask _Ada_."

_ ~ Two minutes later ~_

"GLORFINDEL! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN TEACHING MY SONS?!"

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**#66 – Point of View**

I was finishing my newest work when someone burst into my room, with wide eyes and a mass of dark brown curls. It was Arwen, oddly. She had never before come running to _me_ when something had happened to her.

"Help me!" the elfling gasped, running to me and hiding behind the chair I was sitting in. I gave her a strange look, then glanced worriedly at the door she had just come through. No one was there.

"How may I help you?" I asked, wincing at my slightly terrified tone. I really didn't want anyone…important to come through looking for her. Had she done something naughty?

Arwen sounded a little embarrassed, though I couldn't see her face for she was still behind me. "I scared El accidentally and he spilled ink all over the report he was working on. Now he's mad at me."

"Um…did you apologize?" I offered, wondering which twin it was. Elrohir would be nicer and more understanding, while Elladan was just slightly hot-headed and would do things before he really thought about it first.

"No, I ran!" Arwen told me, as if it were obvious. "Protect me, please?"

I sighed. I never could resist elflings – not even the Peredhel twins when they were young – so I grudgingly nodded. "If he comes in here, just stay behind me and I won't say anything."

"Thank you!" Arwen exclaimed, popping her head out from behind me to give me a blinding smile. I smiled hesitantly back.

Well, if I was going to protect her, I might as well do it cheerily.

I returned to my work.

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**#87 – On My Own**

"'Glorfy, I didn't mean to, I promise!" Tearful grey eyes stared up at the Balrog-slayer, hoping he wouldn't be too angry about the accident.

Glorfindel looked at the item that had been broken. He gave Elrohir a serious gaze, hiding his own inner turmoil at what had happened. "Go fetch Elladan, and I will find out what really happened." He turned the silver brooch over in his hand and read the engraving stamped there. It was in Quenya, but easy to read for one who had once spoken the ancient language.

_For my darling golden-haired boy, from your loving Naneth._

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**#97 – Fellow Sufferer**

"Elladan, _penneth_, you do not bear this burden alone. We can help you, if you would only let us –" Elrond snatched his comforting hand back when his son rounded on him, eyes narrowed dangerously and face angered.

"You will _help_? You, who have mourned for her months, years, and never let us join you in our grief? You will now _help_ after all this time, which is only when you have decided that it has come time for you to comfort your children? We, who have suffered while you kept us out?" Elladan stepped back from his father, shaking his head. "No, I don't think so. You did not have the strength to stop me from leaving earlier; you will not stop me now." He spun and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He was surely going to go to his brother, who would feel the same way but didn't have the blatant courage to come out and say the hurtful words.

Elrond closed his eyes and a pale tear slipped down his cheek. He regretted, and always would, that he had let Elladan and Elrohir wander the wilds hunting for justice, while their sister was comforted by her grandmother, and their father grieved alone in his Home that seemed so empty without his silver-eyed love.

It was that which had torn his family apart.


End file.
